


Get Blown

by orphan_account



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Drug Use, M/M, Marijuana, Shotgunning
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-06-14
Updated: 2013-06-14
Packaged: 2017-12-14 23:08:16
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,394
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/842435
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <em>Harry might be covered in ugly tattoos and he might be getting dumber by the minute. His hair might be totally awful and his reputation might be going to shit. But Louis knows the real Harry Styles, who dances despite his lack of talent and laughs despite his lack of a real reason to, and loves Louis despite the fact that he did not have permission to do so.</em>
</p><p> </p><p>  <em>This night was exactly what they needed.</em></p>
            </blockquote>





	Get Blown

**Author's Note:**

> UPDATE (5/9/16): i've decided to orphan all of my larry fics because 1) they're old and generally not that good and 2) i haven't cared about the pairing for years. thanks for reading!!
> 
>  
> 
> ORIGINAL AUTHOR'S NOTE: in wake of those pictures of 1d getting high on a boat, i needed some larry getting high and shotgunning and just yeah wow. i wrote this kind of quickly so i'm sorry if it's lame but idc i hope you like it anyway!!

Louis sat, glued to the spot on the couch where the leather sagged, giving up on trying to support the weight that was unceremoniously thrust upon it night after night, party after party. He scanned the mass of people who ebbed and flowed out of Harry’s living room in some hope that he would catch him floating through the crowd, or, more than likely, stumbling through it.

He caught a glance of a curly mop of hair and decided to follow it, rising from his perch and finishing off the drink that had been pushed into his hand long before, the alcohol scorching his throat on the way down, blazing a trail of fire in its wake. It momentarily brought Louis out of the fogginess he was experiencing, but just as quickly brought it back, pleasantly this time, as warmth bloomed in his stomach.

Louis found Harry leaning against the wall in the foyer hallway with the faint white glow of his phone illuminating his features, seemingly oblivious to the party occurring around him. Music was thundering throughout the entire house and most of the people in attendance were well on their way to getting drunk, or high, or their own personal blend of both, trying to find some comfortable place of euphoria that they could slot themselves into for the evening, and Louis was among them, with a little baggie of weed deliciously burning a hole in his pocket.

Louis approached his boyfriend and curled into the spot where he found that he naturally fit, perfectly into his side. Harry’s arm wrapped around him out of instinct and a smile formed, spreading across his lips when Louis tilted up to press a kiss just under the younger boy’s jaw, feeling the vibration of a content hum emitted from his throat.  
“Close your eyes.” Louis instructed Harry with a smirk, reaching down to pluck the tiny plastic bag from his front pocket. Harry did so obediently, still smiling because whenever he was with Louis, he couldn’t seem to keep himself from doing it.

The older boy dangled the bag just before Harry’s face and opened it, letting the potent odor escape its confines. It hit Harry almost immediately and Harry’s grin spread even farther, his dimples denting his cheeks. The smell of pot was never a particularly pleasant smell to Harry, but the sharp odor wafting from the bag ignited a feeling of want, a hunger deep in the pit of his stomach that stemmed from not having a chance to smoke in god knows how long, and he seemed to miss it.

Louis closed the bag up and stuck it back in his pocket, smiling up at Harry and kissing him chastely, wrapping his slender fingers around Harry’s wrist and muttering a soft, “Let’s go, babe,” before coaxing him away from the wall and up the stairs to Harry’s bedroom. Harry shoved his phone into the back pocket of his jeans and followed Louis with a giggle, both in anticipation of what was to come, and because Louis had this mischievous glint in his eye that had been becoming more absent lately due to the stress of tour and whatnot. And Harry was glad to see it back because it gave him a glance at the old Louis, as they’d met for the very first time, who appeared youthful and energetic, as opposed to his more current, weathered look, beaten down by jetlag and tabloids and, more than likely, himself. 

He led Harry straight through his bedroom and out onto the balcony that overlooked the bustling metropolis and twinkling white and yellow lights of London. Harry shivered at the cool nighttime air and used it as an excuse to sit even closer to Louis, pulling his metal chair to sit flushed against Louis’. 

Louis had already started on loading the bowl that he’d produced from his pocket, pulling stems from the weed and placing them on the small table. Harry watched as his fingers delicately separated each small clump and deposited it into Harry’s small purple pipe that Louis must have swiped from his bedside table as they made their way out. Harry wasn’t the type to pay much attention, especially when Louis was around. 

Harry’s eyes had drifted to look at the available stars that were splatterpainted across the navy midnight sky, becoming more numerous in their concentration as Harry’s gaze shifted away from the city. He heard the hiss of the lighter coming to life and turned his head in time to see Louis pulling at the flame, sucking hard on the pipe until he could finally get some smoke. It came billowing out and Louis had to pull away, coughing as the smoke scorched his throat. Harry, being the opportunistic person that he was and not wanting to waste a perfectly good hit, pulled the bowl from Louis’ hand and sucked the remainder of the white smoke from the pipe until the flame had died. He held the abrasive smoke for as long as he could before sharply exhaling, watching the smoke drift off.

This continued for a while and Louis realized somewhere around when the calmness set in that he really liked how Harry looked when he smoked, how his big hands delicately held the tiny pipe, and how his cheeks hollowed as he sucked desperately at the bowl, and how the smoke lazily left his plump lips, and how his sea green eyes would ring with red, falling half-lidded as he watched Louis with a languid smile on his lips.

Harry realized how badly they both needed this, to escape from the constant whirlwind of shit that was their collective life, and just relax. They had tried to relax as often as they could, but the serenity of cuddling on the tour bus couch was always short lived, as some press person, or some sort of manager, would always come stumbling in, needing something from them. No matter how hard they worked, someone would always need something more of them. Moremoremore. And it was pressure. They had so many managers that they couldn’t do much of anything without consulting someone first, and it felt so great, so free, to go off the grid for an evening and do something on their own schedule, according to their own rules. 

And Harry was beginning to not care.

He sucked in a huge hit and held it, letting the dull burn sit in his lungs for as long as he could manage before he tossed his head back and exhaled. Louis watched through half-lidded eyes as the smoke passed from his lips, a small smile sneaking onto them.

“You feeling it yet?” Louis asked, his hand moving from where it rested on his thigh to pack another bowl. 

And just at that moment, it hit Harry. The realization that his mind had shifted into another realm of consciousness. He blinked, his gaze fixed on the horizon. Louis laughed and took another hit for himself, cursing as the flame from the lighter licked his thumb. Harry’s head turned to Louis, staring at him in a daze as he sucked the side of his burnt thumb, pouting and being generally over-dramatic. 

“Fuckin’ third degree burns, Haz.” Louis muttered, his lower lip jutted out in a fashion that always had Harry’s attention. Harry couldn’t resist Louis; he was under his spell in so many ways, but nothing Louis did was much more endearing than his pout. “Thumb’s gonna fall off.” He whined.

Harry chuckled and leaned over, capturing his bottom lip between his teeth and nibbling lazily on it. He kissed him languidly, tasting alcohol and the sweet bitterness of pot on his tongue. It was gross, but it was Louis, and Louis was perfect.

“I wanna try something.” Louis muttered against Harry’s lips, pulling away with a smile. He stood from his chair and climbed onto Harry’s lap, grabbing the bowl and lighter from the table once he’d settled in sideways.

Harry watched through drooping, red-rimmed eyes as Louis put the lighter to the bowl and ripped a big hit, keeping it in his mouth and at the top of his throat. He placed two fingers under Harry’s chin and lifted it, leaning into him, Harry’s mouth opening out of instinct. Louis spilled the smoke sinfully into his mouth and Harry inhaled, his eyes fluttering shut as the smoke flowed smoothly down his throat. 

Harry held the smoke before letting it flow back into Louis’ mouth, barely visible as the hit was clearly spent, his lips curling into a lazy smirk. 

At this close proximity, Harry was perfectly in tune to Louis on a level that was only present when they were stoned. Every heartbeat and breath and twitching muscle of the boy on his lap was his. It was theirs. And Harry could experience every single one. Louis was warm and soft and Harry didn’t need anything more than this, than Louis’ weight against him and an uncannily starry night. 

Louis had an arm wrapped around Harry’s shoulder and was enjoying the security of his boyfriend’s arms, holding him tightly. He felt so small next to Harry, and most other things, really, and though he tried to make himself seem big and bad with his tattoos and facial hair and the thick skin he’d had to build up over the years, he couldn’t deny the fact that the façade faded a bit each time he and Harry touched. Little slips of how they were when they first met would shine through and Louis remembers why it was worth it to keep going. It’s because he truly loves Harry, and that they both know that they’re still the same people who met in a urinal and shook hands despite where those hands had just been. It’s the unspoken truth that holds them so tightly together. 

Harry might be covered in ugly tattoos and he might be getting dumber by the minute. His hair might be totally awful and his reputation might be going to shit. But Louis knows the real Harry Styles, who dances despite his lack of talent and laughs despite his lack of a real reason to, and loves Louis despite the fact that he did not have permission to do so.  
This night was exactly what they needed. 

Louis was pulled from his thoughts by the vibration of a content hum radiating through Harry’s body, and in turn, his own. He sat up slightly and took the pipe from the table, offering it to Harry. Harry complained of his arms feeling heavy and that he couldn’t be bothered to move them, so Louis took another hit for himself and then sucked another into his mouth, his thumb grazing Harry’s bottom lip as he leaned in, prompting the younger boy’s lips to part and his jaw to go slack. He accepted the smoke, drawing it from Louis’ lungs and closing the distance between their lips, kissing him languidly, letting the smoke exit through his nose. 

He pulls away to look at Louis, pressing their foreheads together, opening their third eyes to each other. Harry feels like he’s melting into Louis and he couldn’t be more content with how Louis’ red-rimmed (real) eyes look even more impossibly blue as they gaze into Harry’s. And they stayed like that for a while, the distant sounds of the city and the muffled hum of the party below them lulling them deeper into their high.

Louis pecks Harry’s lips and pulls away, inspecting the bowl. He knows that he can draw one final, decent hit from it and decides to go for it, Harry’s mouth opening before Louis had drawn a full load into his lungs. Louis sets the pipe and lighter back down and leans into Harry, opening his mouth, letting the thick white smoke seep out, past his lips and onto Harry’s tongue. Harry breathes eventually, lazily sucking the final hit down and letting it go, back into Louis’ mouth. Louis kisses him with a new found intensity now, feeling so calm and elated that he had to take advantage of it. He licked into Harry’s mouth and tasted the staleness of the weed, eliciting a moan from somewhere deep in the boy’s throat.

They continued to kiss lazily, Louis’ hands going up to run through Harry’s curls. Harry feels each individual strand of hair respond and shivers, his thumb tracing Louis’ jawline. Louis shifted in Harry’s lap and moved to straddle him, his hands cupping Harry’s jaw as they kissed. He pulled Harry’s bottom lip into his mouth and nibbled on it, his hips languidly rolling against Harry’s. Another deep moan was drawn from Harry and Louis smirked, pressing down more on him. 

Louis trailed his kisses down Harry’s neck and found a prominent spot to attach his teeth, sucking hard and relentlessly, Harry’s grip tightening on Louis and a groan slipping past his lips as Louis produced a deep red bruise just above his collarbone. Harry was too high to care.

“Gonna suck you off, yeah?” Louis murmured against his skin, moving his fingers to unbutton Harry’s dress shirt, kissing up to his lips again as his fingers slowly worked the buttons. Harry responded to the kiss lazily, languidly licking and sucking and nipping at Louis’ lips and feeling goosebumps spring up on his chest as Louis’ fingers splayed over his skin, ghosting over his rippling abdominal muscles and moving up his sides, the thin fabric of Harry’s open shirt skimming his knuckles. 

Harry completely drank Louis in, feeling the softness of the slip of skin where his shirt peeked up above his hips, tasting him and absorbing the little sounds, the little moans and gasps that Louis would emit as their clothed cocks ground languidly together. He watched through half-lidded eyes as Louis sank to his knees in front of Harry’s chair, the golden glow of the streetlight below the balcony leaving an orange halo on Louis’ fringe as the boy grinned up at him, the blue moonlight at his front casting a white glow over the boy’s sunkissed skin, washing over him completely, turning his skin the most pleasant shade of periwinkle imaginable. Harry could not have been more in love with the pretty, stoned boy in front of him if he tried. 

Louis, in no sort of rush, moved to unbutton Harry’s jeans and slide them down to his ankles. He leaned forward and pressed an open-mouthed kiss to Harry’s visible length through his boxers, a smirk sneaking across his lips as Harry responded with a delicious, deep moan as Louis teased him, moving his lips up the boy’s length to his tip, a spot where precome had begun to seep through. Though Harry’s entire body was moving at a lackadaisical pace, he still managed to mutter a soft, “Are you gonna get on with it?”  
To which Louis responded by getting on with it.

He grinned up at Harry and yanked his boxers down to join his jeans, eyeing Harry’s length as it lay flushed against his thigh, pink and leaking. Louis took it into his hands and stroked it lazily, watching the tip disappear into his fist and then emerge again with a glazed-over glance. A breathy moan from the boy above him pulled Louis from his trance and prompted the blue-eyed boy to lick a thick stripe up the underside, drawing a whimper from Harry. With a newfound sense of mischief, Louis moved to kitten lick at Harry’s tip, teasing him farther. 

Harry drew his bottom lip into his mouth and stared down at Louis through drooping eyes, catching the older boy’s smirk, but only having the energy to squeeze his eyes shut in response to the teasing, a hand moving to tangle in Louis’ soft hair, just barely tugging at it. Louis couldn’t get enough of how responsive Harry was, how he was so hypersensitive to each touch. He took Harry’s head into his mouth and swirled his tongue around it, ripping a moan from Harry’s lips as Louis took him in farther, his head beginning to bob.

With his eyes shut, Harry found himself _feeling_. The feeling was thick and warm, seeping into Harry and settling in like drunkenness, blooming in the pit of his stomach. Louis’ mouth was hot and wet. The air outside it was cold and dry. So as Louis’ mouth moved up and down his length, it was a constant, dizzying shift between hot and cold, and Harry shivered, a gasp escaping as he felt his tip scrape Louis’ soft palate. 

The vibration of a snippet of sound resounded over his length and Harry opened his eyes to find Louis’ jeans open and his cock pulled from his boxers, his hand moving over it in time with the movement of his mouth. The sight sent Harry’s head spinning and his eyes fell shut again, his second hand joining the first on Louis’ head. 

Harry had lost any drive to muffle his moans and pulled his bottom lip from the grasp of his teeth as Louis’ mouth sped up, the older boy in return becoming more vocal. He forced himself to watch Louis as Louis took in the entirety of his length, his nose grazing Harry’s abdomen as his throat constricted around him, tears springing to his eyes from the gag reflex. Harry smiled down at him, moving a hand to run his thumb over the hollow of Louis’ cheek, feeling his cock through the skin. Louis let up after a moment, his hand moving to pump Harry’s cock as he gasped for breath. 

He leaned his forehead against Harry’s thigh as his hands both busily worked, Louis’ lips leaving breathy moans and nips and kisses along Harry’s thigh. Louis could feel himself getting close to his climax and he moved to take Harry back into his mouth, his free hand gripping Harry’s thigh tightly. Louis’ pace faltered and Harry took it upon himself to guide Louis’ head with his hands, his head falling back and a long, low moan emanating from his throat. 

Harry was lost in the feeling and his orgasm hit him suddenly, like Louis was tearing it from his body. He came with a gasp, Louis’ name falling from his lips as he clung desperately to the boy, spilling down his throat.

As he came down from riding out his orgasm, he opened his eyes to watch his length slip from Louis’ lips, the other boy panting as well. He glanced downward to find that Louis had come as well, his come-soaked hand working his spent cock lazily as his forehead rested on Harry’s thigh again, trying to catch his breath. 

Harry was sorry to have missed it, because the sight of Louis’ mouth falling to a perfect ‘O’, his back arching, and little whimpers and gasps leaving his mouth as he came was Harry’s second favorite thing that Louis ever did, trailing just behind how Louis looked when he truly smiled, his eyes crinkling until they nearly disappeared and a grin spreading across his face, revealing his delightfully crooked teeth.

“You came on my shoe.” Harry said in his slow drawl, merely as an observation, a slight twinkle in his eye as a stupid grin settled on his lips.

Louis glanced up at Harry with tired, dazed eyes, his expression unchanging.

“I swallowed your come.” Louis stated simply, tucking himself back into his boxers, wiping his hand off on Harry’s jeans in retaliation. “And ‘m not cleaning it up, either.” He said, a wicked smile creeping onto his lips as he rose from the ground and plopped back down in his chair. 

Harry chuckled softly and stood as well, reaching down to pull his boxers and jeans back up, either too high or too unobservant to notice the incriminating stain on them. 

He pulled Louis into his arms, setting Louis’ head against his chest as they sat in silence, the elder’s eyes falling shut as Harry ran his fingers soothingly through his hair. A content smile found its way onto his lips, because this was right where Louis wanted to be, basking in post-orgasmic bliss with the love of his life, literally and figuratively high above the rest of the world, floating dreamily on a cloud without a glimmer of desire to ever come down.


End file.
